


Don't Fall Behind

by sciencemyfiction



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: M/M, THIS IS THE INFAMOUS FIC WHERE I TYPOED DICK AS DUCK, an old fic from the t&b anon meme, and then also a lick of romantic sweetness, but here on ao3 you get to be spared that I'll fix it, comedy and sex are what you should expect from this fic, hundred power sex, is that a tag? it should be for this fandom anyway, or will I? there's a certain comedic element missing if I fix it...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencemyfiction/pseuds/sciencemyfiction
Summary: For a prompt on the t&b anonmeme, back in 2011:"Yes I know there've been similar prompts but I'd really love to see either Kotetsu or Banaby accidentally activating his power during sex, upon which the other is forced to activate his too, to keep up/to not get hurt.Since they're both responsible heroes, they really don't want to activate their time limited powers for anything other than emergencies. So: here's a rare chance to explore the exciting ~sensations~ of their NEXT abilities. Kotetsu bottoming preferred."
Relationships: Barnaby "Bunny" Brooks Jr./Kaburagi T. Kotetsu
Kudos: 8





	Don't Fall Behind

At first he's entranced by the thick red wetness of Kotetsu Kaburagi's tongue. In fact, that's the moment at which he realizes how much he wants to see more, as he's sitting across the room, watching Kotetsu draining the last of a cup-of-noodle style lunch, licking the cup shamelessly. If questioned, surely the old man would only say in his defense 'what? I was hungry'.  
  
But you can be hungry without laving the innards of a cup like a desperate lover, moving your tongue with soft sounds of pleasure into the salty channel of--  
  
Barnaby also realizes in that moment that he has a _problem_ , and that problem is inextricably linked with his coworker, his personal life (or lack thereof), and his sexual inexperience. Because Barnaby would not be fighting an erection if he ever took the time to worry about things other than his revenge, or staying in Mr. Maverick's good graces. And he would not be fighting an erection if he were capable of putting the image of Kotetsu obediently licking up his dinner from a bowl like a delicious, man-sized pet from his mind.  
  
Fuck.  
  
"This is a bad idea," he whispers softly, adjusting his glasses to distract himself and then, thinking better of it, pulling them off, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ah, god. Every time he follows that thought even a milimeter further his cock gives a traitorous pulse of desire.  
  
It's not often that Barnaby has to deal with his cock. Their conversations are usually limited to, 'shut the fuck up,' and 'goddammit, you are such a buzzkill', but that's been just fine with him until now.  
  
Now, he's trying very hard not to think about Kotetsu's tongue or his shoulders or his chest as Kotetsu licks his lips and hums, as pleased as the base animal Barnaby's imagination supposes him to be. Eat, fuck, fight. Well, Kotetsu's great at eating and fighting.  
  
_I bet he's a champion fucker, too,_ Barnaby's cock supplies oh so helpfully.  
  
" _This is a bad idea,_ " he mutters again, getting to his feet and marching smartly out of the room. He is marginally cognizant of Kotetsu's puzzled-worried noise following him, though the old man _for once_ does him the courtesy of leaving him to his own devices as he paces in the hall. Eventually, he decides to buy himself some juice.  
  
Perhaps a cold drink will keep him focused.  
  
And then, of course, he has to ruin it by remembering (too late) that the drink he's buying happens to be Kotetsu's favorite. And naturally, of course, his thoughts proceed from there to _Kotetsu crawling on hands and knees to a clear glass dish on a white floor, naked save a collar, flushed and unusually obedient. A hint of his usual passion crackles beneath the surface, sizzling in his eyes, but his lust and the cockring chafing him both work to keep him pleasantly docile as he lowers his head to the dish, lapping up the thin cinnamon-flavored horchata, his strong, scandalous tongue flicking up to get the white trails that caught on his nose when he dipped his head. He looks up through his eyelashes, demurely promising much, much more than obedience in this simple, unimportant thing and--_

"Ah, god," Barnaby sighs, staring forlornly down at the little can of milk-and-cinnamon drink. Might as well give it to Kotetsu, after all. Now he's not the least bit thirsty, and Barnaby isn't the one who just ate a meal wholesale.  
  
_I'm having questions about whether he'd swallow,_ Barnaby's cock offers in a curious aside, straining against his obscenely (frustratingly) tight pants now with interest. _But we both know he'd look fucking fantastic licking all that milk off his lips._  
  
Barnaby is tempted to tell his cock that it can go screw itself, sees the lack of wisdom in such a response, and settles for filling his thoughts relentlessly with his rage over his parents's death, images of Saito and Mr. Maverick, and the entirely UN-sexy thought of being walked in on by Karina, Pao Lin, or Nathan, none of whom, he's sure, would approve.  
  
That does it, though only just.  
  
By the time Barnaby returns, he has made up his mind to give Kotetsu the drink. He does wordlessly, and Kotetsu's surprise melts into a goofy, happy grin.  
  
"Thanks, Bunny~!"  
  
"Shut up," he grumbles. "I didn't buy it for you, I just-- wasn't thirsty after all."  
  
One eyebrow rises, and Kotetsu's grin quickly transforms into a smirk and _hot damn_. This is very unfair. "I know."  
  
Of course Kotetsu knows. Unless he means _I know_ , as in I know why you wanted me to have this-- which could be innocent as remembering a friend's (if that's what they are!) preference, or it could be as damning as lusting after a coworker who happens to be a widowed man with a daughter and about ten years on Barnaby and.  
  
And.  
  
Barnaby's mind kind of stops as he unsubtly watches Kotetsu drinking the horchata out of the corner of his eye, shivering when a bit of it dribbles down Kotetsu's chin, pooling in the soft hairs of his beard.  
  
It looks _exactly_ like semen.  
  
According to some videos he has watched, anyway. For. Educational purposes.  
  
But before Kotetsu can really realize what's got Barnaby so flustered, he makes sure to occupy himself with actual work, and thoroughly ignores the other man for the rest of the day. A brilliant plan, noble in its simplicity and decency. No one gets molested, and also, Barnaby's work gets done. Nice solution, all in all, even if it does leave his dick figuratively out in the cold.  
  
However, this solution does not take into account the fact that, come the end of the day, Kotetsu is still there at his desk, also working. So when Barnaby stretches and starts to stand up, he's well within the proximity necessary to be spoken to, and has no defenses for Kotetsu's cheerful voice chirping at him.  
  
"Nah, Bunny! Since you treated me, let me grab a drink for you. In fact, want to come back to my place? I'll make you dinner."  
  
Barnaby very nearly explains that it is not that he wants Kotetsu to _make him dinner_ so much as _get naked right now_ , but fortuitously he has years of practice at suppressing powerful urges and restraining them into some semblance of polite diplomacy.  
  
So instead, he stiffly nods. "...sure. I'll follow you there."  
  
***

He spends most of the drive mentally kicking himself. 'Sure?'  
  
It's raining today, late summer rain, the kind that's strangely cold against the rising heat left behind by the sun's efforts to beat through the cloud cover all day, heat that is now ebbing from concrete and glass and steel under the drizzle of the storm. This is the kind of weather that makes him want to stay in with a few books and _Fidelio_ playing, or really anything by Beethoven. Beethoven is fabulous for rainy days. Socializing is not.  
  
Yet he's following a green car through the bluster and blast of low winds and fat droplets of water, thinking of what Kotetsu will look like soaked through, fighting with his dick again and throwing up his hands (figuratively) at his choice of words earlier.  
  
'Sure'?! Why had he agreed? There is absolutely no way he'll escape this night unscathed, because he's doubtless going to get hard just _thinking_ about Kotetsu and this time they won't be drunk and he won't be carefully staying behind Kotetsu where his shame can't be seen. Because they'll be at Kotetsu's place. Where there are probably multiple chairs. Because Kotetsu probably has friends.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Ah, why'd he agree? But it's too late now; another turn, and a slow coast to a stop and evidently, they're here. The rain is coming down in sheets, wind flattening their clothes to their bodies and their hair to their faces. When he steps out of his own car, Kotetsu shouts over the roar of the storm excitedly, and motions for Barnaby to follow him in.  
  
Doing so, he's suddenly incredibly grateful for concealing shadows and torrential rain.  
  
Not only does the dress shirt stick in all the right places, Kotetsu's had to loosen his tie. It hangs invitingly now, his vest and collar unbuttoned just so. Collarbone. Kotetsu's collarbone, bare and sharp in the brief flash of light that illuminates it as he turns to go back into the house. That is a place Barnaby wants to bite, and suck, and lick until the skin turns pink.  
  
His mind races as he tries to gather excuses to leave now that he's here; and simultaneously, tries to gauge exactly how drunk Kotetsu would need to be to forget it if Barnaby tried something, and also whether a belt would work well as a collar.  
  
And then all too quickly, his steps take him inside, and he has the excuse of taking off his glasses to wipe the raindrops from them with a mild grumble, but no excuse for the flush that leaps to his face when he puts them back on and Kotetsu is wriggling out of his shirt, vest and tie already on the floor.  
  
Of course, the tie. The tie is a perfect collar. He averts his eyes, asking sharply, "I know the Japanese custom is only to take of your _shoes_ , old man."  
  
_Oo, nice one, boss,_ mutters his dick. _Are you going to ruin everything? Shut up!_  
  
He clears his throat, thinking no, you shut up. Kotetsu is running a hand through his sopping wet hair and smiling awkwardly. "Yeah, but it's cold in these clothes. Are you sure you're okay in that? I could loan you something while they dry."  
  
Barnaby wonders if he's the only one imagining the unspoken words or hey, you could go naked if you really feel like it. Probably.  
  
"That won't be necessary," he says instead, keeping his tone cold, even if his face is still a bit overwarm. Damn it. Damn it damn it. He manages, somehow, to distract himself by noticing the place they've entered. "This is your place?"

He's actually a little alarmed at how clean it is. It's not, well, _Spartan_ like his own abode, but it's not a hellspire of fury and woe, there is no mold growing on the walls and the floor is even clean of beer cans. It's full of things, memorabilia for a life much longer and _richer_ than the life Barnaby has led, but it's not untidy, the way he'd have imagined.  
  
Somehow, that cuts through his fantasies and his self-centered frustration and makes him look back at Kotetsu right as this painfully wistful expression crosses that friendly face. "Ah, yeah. I guess it's a bit bigger than you need for one person, huh? I just haven't got the money to move anywhere, really, and this is close enough to work to walk some weeks."  
  
He doesn't counter that the building is about ten miles away, a bitch of a distance to walk even if Kotetsu weren't probably taking the train part of the distance. His own apartment is located conveniently close to headquarters, a decision he made entirely because he doesn't like having to get up earlier than absolutely necessary.  
  
Instead of saying any of that he makes a vague noise in the back of his throat, slipping off his shoes and removing his jacket at last, gingerly allowing Kotetsu to hang it from a coatrack just inside the living room.  
  
"So!" Kotetsu claps his hands together excitedly. "What would you like for dinner? I could make some stir-fry if you like, I just got fresh vegetables and some beef yesterday at the store."  
  
Barnaby tries not to think about Kotetsu cooking in nothing but an apron. He tries. Oh, he tries so very valiantly.  
  
_Fuck you, I'm thinking about it and I approve,_ is his cock's response. And yes, the thought of Kotetsu's bare ass flashing as he turns to monitor a pot of something boiling, then back to some cookie dough for dessert, is extraordinarily tantalizing. Barnaby swallows hard, staring at the hollow of Kotetsu's throat now that there's no ignoring it. It's easier than meeting the old man's eyes.  
  
"That sounds fine," he says quietly.  
  
Thankfully, Kotetsu's response is a delighted laugh and a promise to have it ready quickly. "Ah, what do you want to drink with that, anyway? I've got a Zinfandel and some Merlot but no blush wines. That all right?"  
  
Alarmingly, Barnaby finds his mouth is moving entirely of its own volition. And speaking. Amiably. "Whatever you think is best with this sort of meal is fine with me."  
  
He tries to smile charmingly instead of in utter embarrassment but luckily Kotetsu doesn't seem capable of discerning betwixt the two. Left to his own devices, Barnaby lurks about the living room, picking up and putting down pieces of Kotetsu's past, dry-lipped and fighting to keep his heart from pounding. Damn it, why did he say yes? Why is he here?  
  
_I thought we were clear on that. Fuck. Kotetsu. Yes? Yes. Okay._ Regrettably, he finds himself in a dire situation where no amount of thinking about being caught or old, unattractive men can really save him, because Barnaby knows full well they're not going to be interrupted here.  
  
They're so very unlikely to be interrupted, in fact, that the exercise begins to only make him more confident that it would be so very, very nice to act on these base desires and take advantage of Kotetsu's hospitality in more ways than one.  
  
Understandably, by the time dinner is ready, he's mortified that he's hard beneath Kotetsu's table.  
  
Luckily, Kotetsu isn't looking as Barnaby sits down, and is occupied with serving the meal-- smells wonderfully gingery, garlicky-- as Barnaby pours their wine.

"I'm really glad you took me up on this," Kotetsu says casually as he slips into his seat, pushing still-wet hair out of his eyes and lifting his glass in an impromptu toast. Barnaby mechanically mirrors the gesture, struggling with some tiny part of himself that is obsessed with the droplets of water currently slipping from Kotetsu's hairline down along his cheeks. "You seemed pretty down today."  
  
That is so opposite of the truth that Barnaby is actually startled out of his lust-born reverie. "What? No, I didn't."  
  
Kotetsu's raised eyebrow prompts Barnaby to hastily drink as much of his glass as he can. Silently, he sets the glass down again, occupying his mind with identifying the rich flavor. It's red, so definitely the merlot; but a wetter merlot than Barnaby's ever had. It feels smoother going down.  
  
"--I wasn't down, just-- distracted," Barnaby clarifies, realizing that Kotetsu's just going to stare at him until he does. Comfortable as his libido might be with being stared at all night, Barnaby doesn't trust his ability to keep his calm under that watchful gaze. Besides which, it'd feel weird to be the only one eating. "This looks good," he adds hastily, trying to redirect the subject.  
  
It works. "Yeah!" Kotetsu beams, sipping his own glass sloppily. A dribble of red spills down his chin and he makes a moue of irritation, setting down his glass and lifting one finger to wipe it away, sucking on it casually. Lips. Lips and tongue. Barnaby has never been so completely focused on anything in his life, which is _saying something._ Kotetsu is talking about how he likes garlic and most people say to put less and Barnaby doesn't care, he's not even hungry. Not for food.  
  
And in that moment of weakness, when he hasn't got the slightest bit of control left for shutting up his cock, it asserts itself, and what it thinks is exactly what comes out of his mouth. "I want to taste you, first."  
  
They both freeze, Kotetsu flushing beautifully, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose lit with it, his eyes suddenly unwilling to meet Barnaby's, dropping embarrassedly to the table top. He laughs, then goes still, looking up through his eyelashes exactly as Barnaby had imagined.  
  
That seals it.  
  
Barnaby stands up in one fluid motion, and stalks back into the front room. The _tie_. He wants that, and he wants Kotetsu, and he wants them _now._  
  
"B-bunny?" Kotetsu's voice follows him out, and when he turns, Kotetsu has joined him, looking worried. He doesn't seem to notice that Barnaby has retrieved his tie. "H-hey, look, whatever's going-- let's talk about it, okay? You don't have to leave all of a sudden, I don't mi--"  
  
This is about the point at which Barnaby loops Kotetsu's tie back around his neck, pulling it tight but not hard enough to choke, and steps close enough to smell the watery sweet cologne Kotetsu wears, closer enough to lick the memory of a trail of wine from Kotetsu's chin.  
  
An answering squeak of surprise escapes Kotetsu's lips.  
  
"I. Want. _You._ " Barnaby says, alarmed at how direct this all became out of nowhere when he hasn't got _any_ practical experience to speak of, let alone any idea why his stupid obsession is acting up now, of all times, and not some other more ideal time when he might at least have known if Kotetsu felt similarly.  
  
Part of him is convinced that Kotetsu does, and all the accidental things that make Kotetsu a hundred times sexier have been intentional teasing. The rest of him is positive that Kotetsu is incapable of such deceit by dint of sheer clumsiness. In either case, it doesn't matter: because Kotetsu's response is to meekly turn his face away, flushing even more darkly, and when Barnaby's free hand comes up, palm against Kotetsu's chest, he discovers a cold, rock-hard nipple waiting for him there. Just touching it makes Kotetsu's body tense, his mouth open in a soundless gasp, hands coming up to grip Barnaby's upper arms, pushing him back one step, even if that does make the tie pull tighter.  
  
Kotetsu grimaces, but speaks through that constriction anyway.

"Bunny, what are you doing? Where the hell did this come from?" Torn between looking hopeful and concerned, Kotetsu seems to be leaning more towards concerned. The fact that there is hope at all in Kotetsu's expression lends Barnaby tremendous courage. All is not lost, he soothes himself: all is not lost because, whether he meant to be a horrendous tease or not, Kotetsu doesn't look angry, or frightened. "Are you okay?"  
  
Hell, he almost looks intrigued, if Barnaby tries to read between the lines. So he pulls the tie a little tighter, pushing back forward and leaning down the few centimeters he has on the old man, kissing him hard and full on the lips.  
  
Barnaby has no sexual experience to speak of whatsoever, but he has been kissed before numerous times. Arguably, he even knows the ins and outs of heavy petting. In high school, there were several girls who wouldn't take no for an answer, and at the time, he'd enjoyed being pursued and their determination had turned him on.  
  
Now he's in quite the reverse situation and gambling everything on Kotetsu responding even the slightest bit like Barnaby himself did, back in the day. He pulls the tie just tight enough to make it hard for Kotetsu to fight back, bringing up his free hand along the smooth line of Kotetsu's spine to cup the back of his head, guiding him deeper. Kotetsu's lips part and Barnaby takes the lead again, driving his tongue roughly down into Kotetsu's mouth.  
  
The delighted moan Kotetsu makes as he yields and opens his mouth wider sends a shock of pleasure straight down to Barnaby's gut, and he grinds his dick into Kotetsu's hip as he slowly lowers them down to kneel on the floor, Kotetsu bent backwards and almost completely suspended in Barnaby's grip, sucking and moaning on Barnaby's tongue with a curiously quiet moan. When they break apart, Barnaby licks his lips, and he can feel the heat in his face. He's breathing hard, but so is Kotetsu; and when he looks, Kotetsu is just as erect as Barnaby himself, straining against his pants and waiting, obedient and demure.  
  
It's such a contrast from Kotetsu's usual demeanor that it should probably worry Barnaby, but all he can think is that it's fucking hot as hell, transforming Kotetsu from his nosy work partner into this lascivious creature, eager and willing and waiting for Barnaby to make the next move.  
  
Kotetsu licks _his_ lips, and again, Barnaby can only stare, entranced by the shine of Kotetsu's tongue. He can think of so many places he wants that. He can think of so many things they could-- no, _should_ do.  
  
"You- you serious, Bunny?" Kotetsu whispers at last, looking a little disappointed, as if he's waited for this for years and years and having a taste only to be turned down would be a major let-down. "You're not just messing with me, right?"  
  
"Of course I'm serious." To prove that this is true, Barnaby suits action to word and begins divesting Kotetsu of the last of his clothing. "I didn't have a plan, though, so you'll have to give me time to make it up as I go."  
  
Kotetsu grins. "Hey, I'm easy." And then, thinking better of it, adds hastily, "Not really, but you know what I m-"  
  
Barnaby shuts him up by kissing him again. Paradoxically, it is just as good the second time as the first. Maybe even better.

A trembling worried sort of happy noise curls up out of Kotetsu as Barnaby explores his mouth thoroughly, bites his lower lip and sucks on it until it's slightly swollen and shining. Barnaby pushes him down to the floor, glad it's clean, and lifts Kotetsu's waist to tug his rain-damp pants and surprisingly dry boxers down, exposing skin, so much tan skin, all golden and alluring. Absent-mindedly, he pulls the tie a little tighter at the sight of Kotetsu's erection as it springs free of the now-abandoned boxers, enthralled. "You really want this," Barnaby breathes, unable to hide his surprise. When Kotetsu looks up at him in something approaching distress, Barnaby hastily gets back to work, tugging the pants off of Kotetsu's ankles and leading him by the tie back to his knees.  
  
Kotetsu moans in complaint. "Bunny, what--"  
  
With a light tug, Barnaby silences him, easing up on the slack as soon as Kotetsu stops talking. He shakes his head, and stands, putting his back against the wall and pulling Kotetsu carefully along with him, trying to find the least covered section of the wall as he coaxes Kotetsu closer.  
  
Determined to make sense of what's going on, Kotetsu peers up, again through his eyelashes, as if he knows what that's doing to Barnaby's whole body, as if he knows it feels like Barnaby's blood is boiling at the sight of that almost poignantly needy expression. "Why am I naked an' you're all still dressed?" Kotetsu whines, clearly feeling cheated.  
  
In the back of his mind, Barnaby is still mapping out the curvature of Kotetsu's muscles, the little faint scars that linger and the largely unmarred expanse of skin that just begs to be tasted. Mostly, he's trapped by his own desire to see Kotetsu do something he's been fantasizing about all day. Swallowing hard, Barnaby brings his free hand to the button and zipper keeping his cock trapped so cruelly in the confines of his pants. "-because," he says, trying to pretend his voice isn't shaking and he isn't halfway embarrassed-enough-to-hide, trying to steady his hand.  
  
It's only one button, it shouldn't be so hard to unfasten.  
  
"I want you to do something for me, first," he admits, and his face burns hotly with shame at even that little truth. Barnaby's cock is singing hymns of glory in anticipation of _hey look, any attention at all ever_ , but Barnaby himself is wrought with worry. He wants Kotetsu to know what he _does_ to Barnaby. More than anything, he wants Kotetsu to squirm and feel as turned on as Barnaby has all day, thinking about how these little things were driving Barnaby into a maddened frenzy. But it's so hard to shape those words. "I-"  
  
Kotetsu waits, looking up almost reverently, waiting for Barnaby's hand to pull down the zipper. He's as much focused on Barnaby's face as he is that hand, and Barnaby catches his breath when he realizes where Kotetsu's focus is. _He wants this._ It makes Barnaby's whole body shake in anticipation. He's half-afraid he'll trip over the precipice into orgasm right here.  
  
To test his theory, Barnaby pulls the zipper down just an inch, and watches Kotetsu's entire attitude suddenly grow intensely focused. Kotetsu remains that way even after Barnaby has loosened his belt and dropped his pants an inch or two, has pulled his treacherous cock from his briefs, squeezing hard at the base to try to keep himself in check. It's so hard ( _he's_ so hard) to wait he could almost cry.  
  
Barnaby clears his throat, sure that if he spoke it'd come out a pitiful whisper, and says,  
  
"I've been staring at your mouth all day." This heady confession seems to have similar effect on Kotetsu, who has eyes only for Barnaby's cock right now, whose whole body is a little flushed. Kotetsu sits back on his heels, trying to catch his breath, eyes shut. Barnaby takes this as a good sign and goes on, desperate to reveal the extent of his perversion. He's not sure why, but he can't help feeling like Kotetsu has to know the extent of what he's getting into before they actually do anything. It would be awkward, but they can still walk away from this if Kotetsu says no.

Whether Barnaby would ever be able to work with him again is up for debate, and he's pretty sure his cock would wither up and fall off if it happened, but he's an optimist. Guiltily lusty optimist. Yeah.  
  
"I can't stop thinking about it. Your lips are--" Barnaby catches his breath, shaking from head to toe. "So- distracting, and when you eat you make these _sounds_ and- I just keep thinking," he's back to whispering, but it's hard to say this all aloud, so whispering might be the best he'll ever be able to do. He does it. "What would it feel like, to have you making those sounds for me?"  
  
Kotetsu's shoulders are tense; he says, "Stop," very softly, almost too softly to hear.  
  
"I want to know," slips out before Barnaby can bite his lips, feeling ever more guilty, and Kotetsu shakes his head furiously.  
  
"Stop it, Bunny--! Geez, if you keep talkin' like that I won't last ten seconds," Kotetsu sounds hoarse and yet his voice is a rich dark murmur, almost a purr. That's the kind of voice that could wrap you up in a warm coat. "I get the picture," Kotetsu adds, licking his lips and eyeing Barnaby's cock again. "Let go of my tie so I can try it."  
  
Barnaby's mouth goes dry, but he does as he's asked. He watches, paralyzed, as Kotetsu takes in just the head, gripping Barnaby's cock at the base with one hand so tightly that Barnaby finds himself wailing in frustration. It feels incredible, yes. It feels _too good_ , it makes his nerves scream like they're on fire, it feels ticklish and almost painful and he wants to writhe away but there's nowhere to go. He claws at the wall behind him with one hand, tries to cover his mouth with the other.  
  
Humming, which sends an entirely different but equally pleasant message to Barnaby's brain, Kotetsu descends, always squeezing just tight enough that Barnaby can only struggle and squirm as he destroys every single shield Barnaby had against total humiliation.  
  
"Oh-" he gasps, as something bright and too good possesses him, a flash of something he's never had before that torments and titillates him. "Oh, fu- K- Ko- tetsu-" Kotetsu's tongue slides up the underside of his cock and then, before Barnaby can do anything but register the slightly different angle of Kotetsu's head, teeth graze along the rim of the glans and Barnaby's hips snap out in reponse. He howls, until it trickles off into a sustained whine, fisting his hands against the wall and biting his lip. He can't escape, he can't come and Kotetsu is only toying with him he's sure, but it feels _so good_.  
  
A deep throaty chuckle resonates through the room and his bones, and Barnaby gasps for breath, trying to speak, to thank Kotetsu, to beg him for release, anything--  
  
And then Kotetsu sucks on him so hard he's aware of the outlines of teeth and oh, Kotetsu's got the whole length of him in that perfect mouth and all he can see is the top of Kotetsu's head. He can feel Kotetsu's molars. He can taste blood from biting the inside of his cheek in a foolish, wasted attempt to keep quiet. He makes an urgent, desperate, embarrassingly high-pitched sound and Kotetsu's eyes flick up as he pulls back slightly, speaking with Barnaby's cock still mostly in his mouth:  
  
"Okay?" comes out, muffled but understandable, and Barnaby nods as convincingly as he can. "Good?"  
  
"R-really good," Barnaby agrees in a hiss, sobbing when Kotetsu's fist pumps along the length of him, tongue teasing the slit at the head of his cock. "It's so w-warm."

Kotetsu makes an affirmative noise and stops teasing him, setting to work in earnest. He grips Barnaby's hip with one hand, the other straying down Kotetsu's body to fiddle with his own throbbing erection as he bobs his head along the length of Barnaby's cock. It's a thing of beauty, watching him, and all Barnaby can think, aside from a cacophony of _yesyesyesyesyes_ , is that Kotetsu must have done this before which means Kotetsu is bisexual which means Barnaby has so many questions but _that can wait_ because he's losing his mind and seeing white flashes and watching Kotetsu stroke himself does something weird to Barnaby's head, makes him desire to possess Kotetsu more than anything else.  
  
He chokes back a shout into a strangled grunt, hips pushing forward and up and up into Kotetsu's mouth, down his throat, coming and coming and coming. Barnaby's head is spinning, and he's watching Kotetsu. Kotetsu swallows around him before pulling back, coughing and taking a face full of semen for his trouble. His hand stills on his still very erect cock, and Barnaby can't help thinking he'd love to watch Kotetsu lick his face clean like a cat cleaning itself as he slowly sinks to the floor, back pressed hard against the wall and legs rebelling completely.  
  
Once within range, he reaches out clumsily, grabbing Kotetsu's cock and watching Kotetsu's face twist in response. His lips part in a subdued moan, right eye shut against the semen streaked over his right cheek, left half-lid with pleasure.  
  
Barnaby scraps his plan to make Kotetsu clean himself, leaning forward to lick that face clean himself and finding that his libido recovers much more quickly than his cock does. Kotetsu closes his other eye, letting Barnaby lick his face and nuzzling him when he's finished.  
  
"Hungry for dinner now?" Kotetsu asks with a wry smile, and Barnaby's whole world catches fire. "It'll get cold if we don't eat soon."  
  
The best part about all that is that yes, Barnaby _is_ hungry now, and he knows exactly what he wants to do about it. He bites Kotetsu's jaw, suckling on it for a moment before answering. "Yes. And I want to watch you eating naked. _Without_ getting off," Barnaby adds slyly, watching in sadistic pleasure as Kotetsu actually blushes, protesting with a frown,  
  
"But you already--!"  
  
"That," Barnaby whispers, leaning in to put his lips to Kotetsu's ear, delighting in the way Kotetsu goes rigid and still to listen. "Was my very first time, old man. I want to savor my first time getting _you_ off, so you're going to wait. Understand?"  
  
A shiver runs through Kotetsu's body and Barnaby can feel it, so close like this. He answers, "Yes."  
  
"Well, then!" Barnaby murmurs in a falsely sweet tone. "Let's have dinner together before it gets cold, shall we?"

This is by far the most interesting dinner Barnaby had ever had.  
  
When he'd originally sat down, he'd been too distracted to really appreciate the delicious simplicity of what Kotetsu had prepared. But with his head marginally cleared of lust, he has all the time in the world to savor the slightly spicy taste of the merlot, enjoy the stir-fry and delight in the sharp ginger flavor. Kotetsu, on the other hand, seems to be having some difficulty. The rules are to keep both hands on the table, which allows Barnaby to ensure that Kotetsu is not touching himself; but either the smoldering intensity of Barnaby's gaze or Kotetsu's own imagination is keeping the old man busy enough that he's barely touched his food.  
  
Barnaby has long since finished his own plate and is now enjoying a second, smaller glass of wine with languid pleasure, taking his time and making no secret as he leers at Kotetsu's nakedness. He feels justified, in a way; he's suffered so very many weeks with that unresolved frustration that comes of watching Kotetsu be _Kotetsu_ at work, and remaining powerless to act on the resultant emotions, sensations.  
  
But maybe he really is being cruel, as Kotetsu tries to focus on actually eating and Barnaby makes a point of running his tongue along the fine lip of his wineglass, making an unnecessary show of it and redirecting Kotetsu's attention to him for the seventh time.  
  
"B...Bunny," Kotetsu tries at last, shifting uncomfortably, trying to catch his breath. "Can't we- I mean, um. What are we going to do, after--"  
  
"After dinner?" Toying with his fork, Barnaby pretends to think about it. He's already had plenty of time to come up with his plan and, given that it's been nearly a half hour, he's starting to feel up to the task of actually carrying out said plan once Kotetsu is done with his meal. "Are you _sure_ you want to know?" he purrs, and Kotetsu drops his gaze to the plate, stuffing his mouth with a big bite of broccoli and snow peas to avoid having to answer that question.  
  
Indecision is written clearly enough across his brow for Barnaby to toy with his wineglass, setting it down on the table with only a last sip of liquid in its bowl, running one fingertip along the stem suggestively. Kotetsu's eyes inevitably follow the motion once it catches his attention, and he swallows his mouthful of food hard.  
  
"I'll tell you," Barnaby promises at length, smiling wide. Maybe he's a little smug in the afterglow. He probably should be grateful Kotetsu's too turned on to tease him about it. "But you must eat your dinner once I do. All right?"  
  
Nodding, Kotetsu sets down his fork and knife, shifting again and gripping the edges of the table a little nervously. That's about as good an answer as Barnaby expects he'll get, so he settles for it.  
  
His hand continues its assault on the stem of his glass. "First, I'm going to make you clear off this table while I undress. Then I'll bend you over it and finger you until you're ready for me." The sharp gasp of anticipation that meets these words tells Barnaby he's making acceptable decisions so far. "And if I can, I'll make you climax when I first enter."  
  
Shuddering, Kotetsu starts to eat his meal quickly, looking either delirious or absolutely humiliated with himself. Perhaps, like Barnaby, he's having trouble resolving the sheer intensity of his desire with how awkward the expression of it is when spoken aloud.  
  
Either way, it doesn't matter. Barnaby waits until Kotetsu has finished, makes him clear away the dishes as specified, and pointedly begins to slide out of his t-shirt, stretching up and seductively casting it to the side once he's gotten it over his head. Unbuckling his belt and removing his jeans, he shucks them as well, peeling off his briefs and standing naked. Kotetsu stares, forgetting propriety, and suddenly is across the kitchen, kneeling at Barnaby's feet, pulling Barnaby's hands to his lips and making love to them with urgent, hungry sounds.

Having his fingers sucked on is a very new experience for Barnaby. One he would not have thought to be erotic, and yet his whole arm begins to tingle as Kotetsu's tongue slides between his forefinger and middle finger, plying the space as greedily as if there were ambrosia to be found there. Just as quickly, Kotetsu pulls himself up the length of Barnaby's stomach, pressing sucking kisses to it the whole way. He lingers at Barnaby's nipples, the moans that escape him growing more urgent there as Barnaby, thunderstruck, starts to echo him, his interest fully reclaimed.  
  
When it starts to get hard not to grind his hips against Kotetsu's, Barnaby hesitates, grabbing Kotetsu's shoulders even as Kotetsu's lips make it to Barnaby's throat. Pushing back puts only an inch between them, and it's not enough to stop Kotetsu's stubborn tongue.  
  
Barnaby doesn't think; he shifts his weight, bringing Kotetsu around, and throws him deftly against the table, pushing his head down and pulling his waist up, slipping a leg up under his right leg, hitching it so his toes are the only thing touching the ground, so that there is that sense of restriction, of limitation. Kotetsu doesn't cry out in protest, only makes a long, low sound of desire, crooning as he rolls his hips, pressing his face down into the table. "Please, Bunny," Kotetsu murmurs, sounding a little more honest than Barnaby has ever heard him: sad, and hungry, and in his way, just as alone as Barnaby. "Now? No more waiting, _please_."  
  
"Don't worry, old man," Barnaby whispers, releasing the pressure he'd been applying between Kotetsu's shoulder blades and slipping his fingers down to probe at the tight ring of Kotetsu's asshole. His cock, realizing where it might get to go if they don't fuck this up, lazily proclaims some slight interest, but it's already losing what steam it had gained when Kotetsu was worshiping Barnaby's body like that.  
  
He worries, for a moment, but doesn't dare let himself linger on the possibility that that will be a problem. Instead, he finds his way to that tiny hole and Kotetsu leans more onto the table so he can spread his legs a little more. Miraculously, with barely any effort, the tip of Barnaby's finger slips inside. Kotetsu's whole body can be read from here; the brief tension in his shoulders, followed by the langorous relaxation. He is anticipating more, and Barnaby does not hesitate to give it to him, pushing deeper, deeper until that first finger is as deep as he can work it. He wriggles it testingly, and Kotetsu sighs and tenses, caught between wanting what's coming and inexperience. (Or, well, Barnaby assumes it's inexperience, though he supposes that he really doesn't know.)  
  
When he adds the second finger, Kotetsu's whole body tenses up and Barnaby realizes he's missing something, here, something important. He blinks, realizing that there is no lubricating substance present, and he knows that they need something like that. Just out of reach is a bottle of canola oil; he leans back, managing to snag it without relinquishing Kotetsu, and drizzles it liberally between Kotetsu's buttocks.  
  
"Ah-! Wh-what?" Kotetsu glances over his shoulder, blinking in confusion at the bottle until he remembers using it in the stir fry. "I guess that works," he laughs shakily, as Barnaby pulls his fingers free and, drenching them in oil, tries again.  
  
This time it's easy, and his fingers curl up just a little and there, it's not so bad. Kotetsu still trembles for a moment or two, adjusting, breathing very carefully. As Barnaby scissors his fingers it seems to drain the fear right out of Kotetsu's body, leaving Barnaby free to search for Kotetsu's prostate while he works at stretching this reluctant ring of muscle out.  
  
He has a third finger in and is very nearly considering adding a fourth when he grazes something and Kotetsu goes stock still for an entirely different reason than before, his toes curling as he grips the edge of the table for dear life. Along with this fabulous visual display comes a startled yelp that strikes all the right chords in Barnaby's head.

Stroking the same spot yields a similar but increasingly sensual response until Barnaby is almost sorry he's planning to replace his fingers with something else. Watching Kotetsu's hips jerk against the air, his teeth grit as he pushes back into Barnaby's touch, is almost as satisfying as coming, earlier. He resolves to try all sorts of sex in the future, especially the kind that lets him just tease Kotetsu like this until the old man can't take it anymore.  
  
"Are you close?" Barnaby asks, stroking a little faster and drinking in the keening wail of pleasure that answers the motion. This is like some kind of forbidden art. Watching Kotetsu move like this could probably give most people a transcendent experience.  
  
Weakly, Kotetsu nods, evidently not trusting his voice to answer. That reluctance, of course, only makes Barnaby want to hear him speak more. After all, it's for a good cause-- the sounds that Kotetsu makes seem to have a direct correllation on how badly Barnaby wants him.  
  
"How close are you? Can you hold on?"  
  
Gulping, Kotetsu shakes his head wildly, gasping for breath. "N- no- no no I c-can't, it's g-gonna-- f-fuck-- Bunny-- please-- _Bunny_ \--!"  
  
Faster than he'd have thought possible, Barnaby slips his fingers back out and, gripping Kotetsu's hips as tightly as he can with one hand covered in oil, drives the head of his cock right back in at exactly the same angle, he hopes, pushing hard and fast to ram that same spot with three times the force he could manage by finger alone.  
  
Kotetsu _screams_ , and the muscle is clamping down around Barnaby's erection but he thrusts again, and again, nearly swooning as Kotetsu's body clenches around him. There's some faint note of panic in Kotetsu's voice, and that's the only thing that makes Barnaby realize what's just happened.  
  
He's glowing blue. For an instant, he's terrified that he's just hurt the only person he's bothered to care about in the last twenty years of his life that wasn't practically family, but Kotetsu's hands crack the table and his ragged breathing stabilizes into a long, slow hiss. They're still moving, and Barnaby realizes, as his brain dully processes that now they are both glowing blue, they're both using their powers, that they are still _fucking_.  
  
Kotetsu finishes coming but every time Barnaby's dick slides home inside of him he curls up tighter around the table, shattering it after a few thrusts as he mewls in ecstasy. Barnaby catches him before he can fall, pulling him back and more firmly onto Barnaby's dick, and he can taste Kotetsu's sweat without even opening his mouth, he can hear Kotetsu's heartbeat, he can feel the veins straining in Kotetsu's body as the last of orgasm passes so quickly it's almost worse than if Kotetsu hadn't yet come. Not satisfying, but intensely pleasurable: he can feel it in the way Kotetsu's muscles shake with exhaustion, even while he groans in frustrated acceptance.  
  
"Bunny," Kotetsu's voice is an agonized groan. "Don't stop now, don't--"  
  
"I can't," he says, not sure if he's just saying it or it's true. It feels like he couldn't stop even if he wanted to, but that's all moot because he _doesn't_ want to and doesn't intend to, either. "You-- you feel--"  
  
"Uh-huh," Kotetsu agrees, and if he sounds the tiniest bit panicky, he also sounds like he's very much in the same place as Barnaby right now, spinning his wheels and unable to resolve the lust building in his body. "Oh god," he whimpers, as Barnaby's hands find Kotetsu's rock-hard dick, his nipples, and Barnaby slowly sinks to his knees. Now it's Kotetsu, fucking himself desperately on Barnaby's erection while Barnaby kneels there, penitent, twisting and pinching Kotetsu's nipples, leisurely stroking his cock.  
  
"Stop being so-" Barnaby whispers into Kotetsu's neck, at the same time Kotetsu drives his hips down so hard they both rock with it.

"I can feel you breathing," There's a sense of wonder in Kotetsu's voice, as if for all that he knows so many tricks for Hundred Power, he's never guessed this could be one of them. Practically, it makes sense. It's not exactly safe. Barnaby's half-certain they're making progress on ruining Kotetsu's floor, which is why he's trying to keep himself still, just thrusting up. Kotetsu's head lolls back against Barnaby's shoulder. Each individual hair is a spark of delight through Barnaby's over-sensitized mind: he catalogs every one of them and it pushes him over the edge, and he comes so hard he should ordinarily be passing out, probably.  
  
But no: just as quickly as Kotetsu is recovering, Barnaby's dick awakens. Two minutes, thirty seconds-- around two hours of normal time, if he takes Hundred Power literally-- seems too short and yet like it will last forever all at once.  
  
"We have to stop," he says, desperate that they should get hold of themselves, that they shouldn't let this spiral out of control and wreck Kotetsu's neighborhood. Because they could. They both know they could. "Stop moving!"  
  
Kotetsu whimpers. "I can't-" And Barnaby shakes him, but Kotetsu just moans with a dreadful certainty, "I _can't_ , I can't, I can't--"  
  
They have two minutes left. Barnaby presses his face against the back of Kotetsu's neck, accidentally snapping the frame of his glasses in two. The two halves drop to the floor and while he can hear them, every sense is focused on the rich smell and taste of Kotetsu, of Kotetsu's cologne and his sweat and the semen cooling on his belly and the semen building in his balls and the electric impulses that are passing almost between the two of them. It almost feels as though they could nearly read each other's thoughts, almost, almost.  
  
Barnaby hisses shakily, "Then try to keep up, old man," smiling into Kotetsu's neck and flipping them down, pressing Kotetsu's face into the floor beneath the remnants of the table, curling forward over him and fucking him as hard and fast as possible. The room becomes quieter and quieter as their moans fade into ragged gasping so perfectly in sync it's as though there is only one person here: the wet sound of their bodies meeting and then, one long, perfect instant where Kotetsu is coming again. Barnaby can hear Kotetsu's breath hitching before it does and feels it coming in a rush and slams home as hard as he possibly can, trying to make it last forever, pounding the same spot again and again until Kotetsu is screaming his name at the top of his lungs, over and over and over. All the neighbors must think that someone is killing him. He sounds like he's dying, his heart is beating wildly and Barnaby can _hear it_.  
  
Muscles spasm uncontrollably around him, Kotetsu's fingers digging deep tracks in the floor and then, quite suddenly, Kotetsu passes out, going limp beneath Barnaby's still aching body.  
  
He nearly bursts into tears in disappointment when the power fades a second later, leaving him so hard he wishes he could burst, sore, his dick chafing from so much abuse when ordinarily he barely touches it unless he absolutely has to.  
  
Kotetsu's aura fades as well, leaving the table snapped in twain, a pool of rapidly cooling semen on the floor beneath Kotetsu's unconscious body, and Barnaby, trying to catch his breath as he pulls free with a wince, falling dizzily back against the counter. It takes ten minutes before he can coax his dick back into some semblance of order; another fifteen to stagger around Kotetsu's home and find the bathroom, where he cleans up and stands in cold water until his erection gives up the ghost and fades away for the moment. Decidedly more clear-headed (though just as exhausted), he returns to find Kotetsu still unconscious and starts to worry, cleaning the old man up and checking his pulse. It's steady; and Kotetsu is warm, so warm, and his lips look so inviting that Barnaby kisses him.

By the time Kotetsu finally wakes up again, Barnaby has managed to clean the dishes, wash Kotetsu off and decide to clean his ass as well, playfully molest him for several minutes longer than necessary, and carried Kotetsu up the stairs to the room that Barnaby presumes contains Kotetsu's bed.  
  
Thus, when Kotetsu's eyes open, he is cradled in Barnaby's arms, in his bedroom, and Barnaby is graced with the sweetest smile he's ever seen. For an entirely different reason than usual, Barnaby's legs go weak.  
  
In a tiny, sleepy voice, Kotetsu croaks, "Hi, Bunny."  
  
This is much more complicated, it seems, than simple sex. Barnaby tries to keep himself centered as Kotetsu nestles against his chest, drowsily drifting. He should answer, he knows, but first he wants to get Kotetsu to bed, which apparently now means Barnaby himself will also be going to bed. He sets Kotetsu atop the blankets, and joins him, fascinated by how quickly Kotetsu cuddles up into him again, softly sighing.  
  
"Hold me," Kotetsu says, and Barnaby loops an arm around his waist, feeling protective and content. Laughing softly, Kotetsu falls silent. Not five minutes later, he begins to lightly snore.  
  
Barnaby is baffled. He doesn't have the slightest idea what to do, except that he's very happy and possibly, possibly that last part with Kotetsu being so open and defenseless and _sweet_ was better than the mindblowing sex. Possibly.  
  
He resolves to figure it out in the morning, because he can barely keep his eyes open, and Kotetsu is like a warm blanket against his chest and stomach. It's hard to even imagine wanting to have sex again for at least another week. His cock stirs sleepily, just for a moment, remembering that it was cheated of that third orgasm it apparently thinks it was totally going to have had.  
  
So he amends his thought: not for at least another hour, by which point he intends to be fully asleep, libido be damned. Satisfied, Barnaby closes his eyes, and sets his worries aside for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> I did in fact correct the typo, because on Ao3 I have the power to do that, but I think it's important to admit the original existed and it was hilarious. 
> 
> Anyway! Sorry to be posting so much old kinda pwp stuff I just. Wanted to finally put it on my account. I am currently focused on JJBA stuff and most of it's pretty unsexual so this feels a little weird to me where I am in the modern day but! hopefully some folks will enjoy seeing these old fics kicking around. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed. I don't usually write comedy as much so this voice feels especially weird knowing how ponderous and serious I often am! Not bad weird, though.


End file.
